served in many important positions: United States District
Attorney, Judge of the Supreme Court, and United States Senator. He died
in 1878.]

Dr. Busey recalls his popularity at one of the leading places of
amusement on Capitol Hill.

"Congressman Lincoln was very fond of bowling," he says, "and would
frequently join others of the mess, or meet other members in a match
game, at the alley of James Casparis, which was near the boarding-house.
He was a very awkward bowler, but played the game with great zest and
spirit, solely for exercise and amusement, and greatly to the enjoyment
and entertainment of the other players and bystanders by his criticisms
and funny illustrations. He accepted success and defeat with like good
nature and humor, and left the alley at the conclusion of the game
without a sorrow or disappointment. When it was known that he was in the
alley, there would assemble numbers of people to witness the fun which
was anticipated by those who knew of his fund of anecdotes and jokes.
When in the alley, surrounded by a crowd of eager listeners, he indulged
with great freedom in the sport of narrative, some of which were very
broad. His witticisms seemed for the most part to be impromptu, but he
always told the anecdotes and jokes as if he wished to convey the
impression that he had heard them from some one; but they appeared very
many times as if they had been made for the immediate occasion."

Another place where he became at home and was much appreciated was in
the post-office at the Capitol. "During the Christmas holidays," says
Ben: Perley Poore, "Mr. Lincoln found his way into the small room used
as the post-office of the House, where a few jovial _raconteurs_
used to meet almost every morning, after the mail had been distributed
into the members' boxes, to exchange such new stories as any of them
might have acquired since they had last met. After modestly standing at
the door for several days, Mr. Lincoln was reminded of a story, and by
New Year's he was recognized as the champion story-teller of the
Capitol. His favorite seat was at the left of the open fireplace, tilted
back in his chair, with his long legs reaching over to the chimney jamb.
He never told a story twice, but appeared to have an endless
_repertoire_ of them always ready, like the successive charges in a
magazine gun, and always pertinently adapted to some passing event. It
was refreshing to us correspondents, compelled as we were to